One simple decision can change everything
by strawberrykisses
Summary: Radditz arrives on Earth... but he's not alone! During an intense battle between forsaken kin Bulma loses her everything. Will love bloom between her and the man who stole her world or will she brake? [Don't let the start fool you this is BV all the way]
1. Prologue

Heya fellow DBZ lovers,

What I have for you today is a story that came from a single idea I had one day when I was watching re-run's of Dragonball. What if Bulma always had a thing for Goku? And what, more prominently, if she choose to persue it? My personal thought is that it would change just about everything and not neccesarily for the better.

Soooo here's that thought magical brought to life by a word processor and my imagination. Please note that this is intended as a Vegeta/Bulma coupling. The only difference is how it comes about.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own it but if I did Vegeta would be the main character and the rating would be s high it'd probably be illegal to watch in most countries.

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**One simple decision can change _everything_**

By Ariel (a.k.a. StrawberryKisses)**_  
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**Prologue**

Bulma watched in horror as the disgusting scene before her unravelled, her sky blue eyes wide in shock and glimmering with unshed tears. Chi Chi, a not-so-fond memory from many years ago, had shown up out of the blue to partake in a heated battle with Goku. Without consciously acknowledging it, Bulma realised the outcome would change the course of all their lives... forever. The battle had begun.

With each punch thrown, each kick dodged Bulma felt a little part of herself crack, break and fall apart, forever to be left shattered and broken in the lost regions of her soul. Her heart throbbed. Her eyes stung. Something was happening. Something important. Something _crucial_... But what? Dear Kami, _what?_

She felt like a woman looking for a tiny precious jewel in the sand. Becoming more and more frustrated, more and more distressed, as each grain slipped swiftly through her fingers. Never gaining the upper hand. Always two steps away from capturing that stray jewel, that stray thought, that stray _knowledge_. The one thing that, at that moment, seemed the most important thing in the world. She had never felt this way before and suddenly she was scared, more scared than she'd ever been. What was it she was missing? _What?_

The battle's end was swift and unforgiving. The inevitable conclusion leaving Goku victorious and Chi Chi sore and a loser. In Chi Chi's haste she revealed her angered tale of long ago to the unsuspecting audience. Bulma sat shocked, listening deftly as the rash, somewhat pathetic story unfolded to the rapt audience. _Fans and followers, it's now story time!_

Apparently, during one of the Z-gang's many childhood adventures, Goku had made a innocent pledge to take Chi Chi's hand in marriage when they were both fully grown, not knowing what the word marriage meant, not knowing what the banshee now standing before him was really like, not knowing much of anything, really. However Chi Chi had taken this promise to heart, almost obsessively so, and that was her reason for being here: to cash in. From the vicious, ice-cold determination glaring in her eyes, to the fact that she was willing to undertake a battle where she was so obviously disadvantaged, it become apparent that this was no joke. Somewhere, some time long ago, Chi Chi had made the decision that this man would be heir's. Even now, years later, nothing was going to change her mind.

Bulma scoffed in righteous indignation at the false promise long forgotten by all but Chi Chi. Words that, even now, meant nothing. Just what right did this obnoxious woman think she had?

Chi Chi's black eyes flashed in anger, a scowl clearly present on her plain features as she clung triumphantly to a very indifferent looking Goku. So far as she was concerned this agreement was a done deal. She once again insisted, in her haughty, arrogant tone, that he "marry her at once". However blank the promise may originally have been it had know come back to haunt him.

Bulma grasped dearly to the hand rail when she heard the soft, innocent response of the man who now stood in the centre of this controversy. One small, irritating, heart-breaking word: "Sure."

Her knees felt like jelly and she bit into her tongue, hard, to keep herself from fainting. She closed her eyes in an attempt to gather what was left of her fractured nerves. Like knifes plunged viciously into her soul, she listened to the couple's conversation unfold. The fact that he was and always had been naive, coupled with his tendency to think with his stomach rather than his brain, had left Goku thinking that marriage was some kind of food. Not only was he about to make the biggest mistake of his life, he didn't even have a clue what he was agreeing to.

Bulma ground her teeth, hearing Chi Chi's soft concurrence as she made the conscious decision to deceive.

"Yes, that's right," she muttered, the words slipping smoothly from her lips. Then softly, under her breath. "Whatever works."

Bulma grimaced in disgust, grasping to her anger like a life preserver as the other emotions were silenced and pushed ruthlessly into the background. Her mind was unable to process the idea that a woman could be so pathetic that she would actually try to trick such an honourable man into a union that was permanent and irreversible: a union supposed to be forged through love. The idea simple did not compute. That her friend would be forever tied to such a person... A shiver of disgust ran down her spine. She just couldn't stomach it and she sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen without giving the bitch a piece of her mind.

_But aren't you making a large deal for someone's who's just a friend? Sure she's tricking him. But she can cook, she can clean... She's everything Goku need in a wife. Everything he wants. So, _why_ do you care? _A rebellious thought whispered maliciously in the deep recesses of her mind. She ignored it. She had more important things to deal with right now and going over unknown feelings and emotions hardly seemed appropriate. Bulma would not let this happen. It was time for action. It was time to _fight_.

With one simple decision, one tiny twist, a small, blue-haired woman changed fate.

Bulma stood, making her stealthy way to the stadium floor to where the not-so-happy couple stood, her long blue hair fanning behind her.

Unwanted thoughts continued to nip at the edge of her mind but a more reasonable side quickly dealt with them. She was just looking after her friend's best interests, that was all. Chi Chi had lied. Chi Chi had deceived. So what if she could cook and clean. _So what?_ Goku was the most noble man in the world, perhaps in the universe. He didn't deserve that. He was the best fighter, best friend... best person she had ever met. Besides, it didn't sit well with her that he didn't even realise what the hell he was getting himself into. It just wasn't right and it certainly wasn't fair. For someone who has saved the known world countless times to be punished so harshly... It _just wasn't right_. Goku deserved better. Someone and something more like-

She had reached the odd couple. All reasonable thought left her only to be replaced by a deep-seated rage that overtook her very being. Chi Chi, who must had had some idea of what the other woman wanted, clung furiously to Goku's arm and scowled. Bulma ignored her completely.

"Goku," she all-but-screamed, immediately shifting his attention from his angry 'fiancée' to his even angrier best friend. "Don't you dare listen to her! She's tricking you, idiot. You can't marry her… For god's sake Goku you don't even know what marriage is!"

Goku grinned down at his blue-haired buddy, innocence shinning from his eyes. He had thought marriage was some kind of foreign delicacy. Apparently he had been wrong. But he wasn't worried, it would hardly be the first time that had happened. He meant to ask Bulma what he had just agreed to but, before even a syllable could escape his barely parted lips, Chi Chi's irritating voice cut in.

"Mind your own damn business," she screeched. "Goku made a warriors promise that he would marry me and, as a noble and fair man, it is now his duty to honour that. Now leave us alone you ugly, blue-haired idiot!"

Bulma seethed. How dare she. HOW. FUCKING. DARE. SHE!

"He was just a boy," she ground out, trying and failing to keep her depthless anger in check. "An innocent and naïve child. Are you really that wretched that you're going to make a man keep a promise he made as a boy? One that he doesn't understand even now. Are you really that _pathetic?_"

"It doesn't matter," the younger woman screeched. "Nothing matters apart from the fact that he has agreed and we are getting married NOW!"

Chi Chi grabbed Goku's outstretched hand, triumphantly pulling him towards the makeshift alter she had had prepared. A spade was a spade, as far as she was concerned, and she _would_ be getting married. Nothing and no-one was going to get in her way.

Bulma could hardly believe what was happening. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. Suddenly, desperately, she was finding it hard to breath. Something, that one crucial thing that had seemed so very far out of reach, had just clicked. Like a dusty jigsaw puzzle that had been forever left incomplete that one, final piece had finally been put into place. All at once everything made perfect sense. She felt complete. She felt more _there _than she had ever been... But mostly, she just felt scared.

"Wait… Goku, please wait."

She was grasping at straws, she knew that. But she didn't care. She would do anything, try anything, for that one final chance just to touch hold and forever be with that man... _her_ man. She wanted so desperately to confide in him all the emotions she had only just acknowledged, all the thoughts and feelings she had kept secret. She wanted to embrace them, let them envelope her in a blanket of comfort and warmth. She wanted to let go, of all the pain, all the hate, all the regret, and just be with him. The man who had always stood by her. The man who had always protected her. The man that she loved.

The thought of losing him tore at her heart and crystal tears began their gentle descent down her pale, flawless features. Each heartfelt drop carrying with it a piece of her dying soul. She had lost him forever... But somewhere, not with his ears but with a more fundamental, primal sense, Goku felt her pain. He heard her call. He went to her.

"Bulma," he muttered, inches away from her prone form. He raised his hand, delicately wiping the tears from her eyes. His other hand encased her own. Chi Chi stood metres away, spluttering in anger and contempt. Goku didn't see her. Neither did Bulma. They were somewhere else entirely. Alone together. In another galaxy far, far away.

Bulma's deep blue gaze met Goku's calm onyx one and they stared at each other, into each other, for moments which could easily have been an eternity. It had finally all fallen into place. Bright and brilliant realisation. How could she never have noticed something that now seemed so damn obvious? Bulma couldn't help but sigh, sure that someone so pure, so honourable, so _great_ could never feel that same way.

"You can't marry her Goku," she said, falling into his arms and resting her head on his shoulders as tears continued to fall. She couldn't look at his face, couldn't see the rejection she was sure to find there.

"Because I think," she whispered, repressing the shudders that racked her body. "I think that I'm... that I'm... in love with you... In fact I know it."

Goku lifted her chin up, willing her to look at him, willing her to really _see _him. He was smiling. Beaming in fact. Bulma was so shocked she barely recognised it for what it was. Because right now, right at this very moment when Bulma had just confessed her love for him, Goku was more happy than she had ever seen him.

"Well, why didn't you tell me before?" he muttered bluntly, raising his strong hand and gently caressing her anxious features. "Because I love you too, Bulma. I always have."

Bulma laughed brightly, silenced as Goku met her her lips in a tender yet furiously passionate embrace.

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Next time on DragonBall Z: Time has passed and things, big things, have changed. But one thing stays the same: the Sayains are coming! Will the altered Goku have the strength to beat them? Will all the Z-gang still be friends? Will only Radditz show up? Tune in next time to find out! 


	2. Broken Hearts Shattered dreams

**A.N.** Well here's the next chapter. Believe it or not it's actually about a week later than my planned release date. But it's here now and I guess that's all that matters. I tried to make it overly sappy and emotional, hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

StrawberryKisses

_Disclaimer: As you well know I don't own it... If I did there'd be a prostitude named Ariel that all the Saiyans went to for their sexual needs. XD_

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**Chapter 1: Broken hearts. Shattered dreams.**

5 long and happy years later

"Goku, hurry up!" Bulma yelled, gently rocking the screaming infant as his shrill cries rang out, echoing through the hallways of the large, dome-like structure. Her face was a mask of frustration and anger. The child, ignoring his mother's failed attempt to comfort, continued to wail at the top of his lungs. Bulma sighed in exasperation.

"At this rate we'll never get there," she muttered.

"Sorry Bulma," Goku apologised, appearing suddenly in front of her. She didn't know whether to blush or sigh as she watched his chaotic attempt to pull on a sweater and devour a large pile of toast all at once. His rippling muscles glistened with sweat from his early morning work-out as he struggled one-handed with the bunched item of clothing currently obscuring his vision.

Bulma couldn't help but giggle at his foolishness. They had known each other practically their whole lives and yet she still couldn't get over how damn idiotic he could be.

_And handsome_ she added as she watched his abdominal muscles bunch and contract. All these years and the attraction had never faded nor had the passion thawed. If anything she loved him now more than ever. He was her everything. He was her oxygen. And without him, she would be utterly and completely lost.

_I'm can't believe how lucky I am,_ she mused.

Finally defeating the seemingly un-conquerable mountain of toast Goku pulled the stubborn sweater fully on, flashing his wife an infamous grin. She felt herself unconsciously beaming back at him, still unable to resist his charm.

Bulma looked her husband up and down. Clad in a black sweater, dark denim jeans and a pair of rust coloured sneakers he was everything a woman could possibly want. The perfect man.

She could still remember the day she'd taken him clothes shopping for the first time. Clad, as usual, in his orange gi he had looked at all the different outfits with confusion and wonder. Fighting and training were so much a part of his life that the idea of 'casual' clothes baffled him. He didn't really see why he needed them. Nonetheless he had allowed her to drag him around, tried clothes on and even picked out some outfits on his own. She loved him all the more for it.

Goku lifted the small child from his wife's arms. The infant – who would have been a mirror image of his father had it not been for his deep ocean blue eyes – immediately quieted. Goku beamed at his son with a mixture of adoration and awe.

Bulma grinned, leaning against the corridor wall and watching the emotional scene take place. Father and son. The inseparable duo. How could one woman possibly feel as much emotion, as much love, as she felt right now? How was such a thing even _possible_?

"You have no idea how much I love you!" she declared, giving Goku a chaste kiss.

"Both of you," she added, kissing her giggling baby boy and missing the blush of her shy husband. Goku's hand snaked around his wife's slim waist and she smiled.

"Well, I suppose we better get going," he said. "We don't want to be late."

Bulma tried, and failed, to show her husband a frustrated scowl.

"We already are late, Goku."

"All the more reason to go now."

The happy family quickly excited their cherished home. Not knowing that it would be the last time they'd ever see it. Not knowing the danger that was swiftly approaching. Not knowing that, in less than twenty four hours time, they would be one less in number.

Bulma said: "I'm with my family and soon I'll be seeing old my pals again. _Nothing_ could ruin this day."

How very wrong she was.

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"Hey guys," the Blue-Haired-Beauty all-but-screamed in excitement as Nimbus landed on Roshi Island. Six familiar, sun-bleached heads raised in unison and beamed in the family's direction.

"Bulma… Goku," Krillan replied cheerfully, a huge grin encompassing his features. He jumped from his sun-chair, shuffling over to greet his long-time friends. "It's been so long. It's great to see you again."

"It's great to see you too Krillan!" Bulma said, returning his bright smile in kind. "The rest of you as well. It's been so long."

"Sure has, Bulma dear," Roshi agreed from the doorway of his small cottage. Bulma noticed that his roving eyes were shrewdly surveying her bared cleavage.

_Good to see nothing has changed_, she though, not sure whether to feel pleased or disgusted.

"What's that you've got there?" Oolong asked from Krillan's side, eyeing the bundle of blankets in Goku's muscular arms.

"Is it a present maybe? Or some kind of food?"

His eyes lit up in greedy expectation.

Bulma ignored the pathetic pig and smiled at the rest of her gathered comrades.

"Guys," she said, her voice full of pride and joy as she gently revealed the sleeping child who lay in his father's arms. "I'd like you all to meet our son… Gohan."

Each and every one of them fall over in exasperation. Think anime style

"Wow… Bulma's a mother!" Krillan muttered. "Who would have thought?"

Bulma slapped him cheerfully on the back and they all laughed together, united once more. It was funny how these things happened. It had been five years, five long years, since the Z-gang had been together and yet it had taken seconds for that friendship to be renewed. They had shared so much, sorrow and happiness alike, that together they had formed an unbreakable bond, apparently one that would forever stand the test of time. And now they stood, combined once more. A group of _true_ friends.

Happy and reminiscent conversation began as the old friends spoke of not-so-distant memories and possible futures. There was no end to the questions brimming in each thoughtful gaze. How'd this come about? Whatever happened with that? Just where were so-and-so these days? The enthusiasm and happiness of each person present was more than clear.

Breaking away from the over-excited babble of which Bulma was, quite happily, the focus, Krillan wandered over to his long-time spiky-haired friend who stood cradling his small son. Gohan had long since fallen asleep and was snoring lightly in Goku's arms. Krillan had meant to ask his best friend what fatherhood was like but, before he could even utter a syllable, the words caught in his throat. Goku's face was ashen. His eyes narrowed in concentration. His mouth, normally the hostess of perhaps the most cheerful, carefree smile on the face of the planet, a deep-set frown. Looking up at his best friend Krillan was immediately silenced. Goku was worried. Krillan found himself never wanting to find out why.

But he wasn't the only one. Something had changed… and they could all feel it. Bulma stopped talking abruptly and turned to her husband. Everyone else followed suit. A shiver run up her spine. Something was very wrong. She could _sense_ it.

"Goku, honey, what's the matter?" she asked anxiously, hoping that it was nothing and knowing that wasn't the case.

"Three monstrous power levels suddenly appeared to the East of here a minutes ago," he stated, his tone grave and serious. "They're coming this way."

Krillan's face furrowed in concentration, forcing his senses to perceive any unknown ki.

"I feel it too," he muttered, his voice hoarse with awe and fear. "They must have been shielding their ki. Their power levels are… terrible."

"Don't get ahead of yourselves guys," Tien said, desperate to lighten the sombre mood which had fallen over all of them. "They're probably good guys like us. I mean, just because they're strong doesn't mean they're our enemies, right?"

He was answered by a huge explosion from the East, the sky set momentarily ablaze by the ominous crimson of death and destruction.

"I seriously doubt it," Roshi muttered. "I think they're coming for us and I don't think they're intentions are friendly."

"Goku?" Bulma pleaded as he turned to her, gently placing their son in her arms. "Who are they Goku? What do they want from us?"

"I don't know," he replied, unable to met his wife's gaze. From what he could sense the power levels were exactly as Krillan had said: terrible. In mere minutes they were all going to be plunged into something catastrophic, something that would undoubtedly mean a fight for their lives. And, what's worse, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to pull them out this time.

"I honestly don't know."

Silence ensued as the gathered friends waited anxiously, desperately for something to happen. Each fighter stood at full attention, ears peaked for any sign of their unwelcome guests. Time passed, silent and tense. To Bulma it seemed like an earth-shattering eternity. Her husband was afraid. And that made her terrified. Goku was well-known for his love of battle and his honourable stead-fast save-the-world complex. The idea of a good fight thrilled him. Fighting was his passion, his first love and a very large, very real part of his life. But why then was he so downcast, so… anxious? The thought of it chilled her to the core. She felt like screaming at the men surrounding her. Telling them that they were the Earth's Greatest Fighters. Telling them that they had been through much worse before yet still attained victory. Telling them that they had nothing to fear. Finally just telling them, in a strong, clear and level-headed voice, that they had no right to frighten her this way. She opened her mouth, intend on voicing those thoughts. The sudden appearance of three huge men stopped her dead in her tracks.

They stood feet away, the air around them bristling with immense energy as they stared arrogantly down at the gathered warriors, reminding Bulma of a lion pride surveying their prey. The silence they brought was deafening. Even the wind, howling just seconds before, seemed to hush and be still in their wake. The tallest of the three, bald but for a bushy moustache that obscured much of his face, smirked, his demeanour cruel and sadistic. Another, baring a slight resemblance to Goku, stood casually beside his tall companion, extremely long and wild black hair flowing down to his booted feet. He too smirked haughtily at the assembled warriors. Lastly, standing arrogantly before his men in the very image of a dark Prince stolen from some crude and twisted fairytale, was the shortest of the three, a man that could be considered handsome man except for his cold and lifeless onyx eyes. All three possessed a tail – identical to the one that Goku had once had – wrapped securely around their athletic waists.

Bulma clutched her child to her breast and moved swiftly behind her husband needing to shield herself and Gohan from the unknown brutes before her. Though quite different in appearance they each illuminated the same feeling in Bulma's soul: terror. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried desperately to still her racing heart.

"Kakkarot?" the man resembling Goku asked, confusion evident in his tone. Narrowing his brows he pressed the electronic device on his head for what seemed the hundredth time, staring perplexedly at his would-be twin. "I just don't get it. You have an average power level. How is it that these weak earthlings are still alive? And why on Vegeta are you socialising with them?"

"Are you talking to me?" Goku asked softly attaining from the man's gaze that he was indeed the focus. The man frowned.

"Of course I am, Kakkarot! What are you talking about?"

"My name is Son Goku and I'm afraid I have no idea what _you're_ talking about!" he replied bluntly.

The man before him frowned in apparent confusion laced with distrust.

"You mean you remember nothing? Not even your name or mission? That's impossible! The pods are programmed without flaw. The rest is ingrained in your DNA. How could you not know? How is such a thing even possible?"

"Maybe I can shed a little light onto the subject," Master Roshi stated showing more bravery than what he currently felt. He stood forward, quietly revealing the shocking news that a near-fatal head injury Goku suffered as a baby must have somehow scrambled his memory.

The wild man turned to the other two, as though seeking reassurance. The smallest of the three nodded. Spinning back around he smirked haughtily at Goku.

"I see. So you lost your memory Kakkarot? I suppose it is to be expected from a weak third-class. Please let me try to explain your position. I am your brother Radditz, this," Radditz said waving his hand in the direction of the smallest man. "Is our Prince, Vegeta, and the man standing behind him is his bodyguard Nappa. We are from the planet Vegeta, your home planet, and our mission is simple: retrieve the Saiyan sent to planet Earth when he was a mere infant, 'programmed' to purge it of all life. You are that Saiyan and you are needed to help defend your race against the evil emperor Frieza who has had us imprisoned and enslaved for centuries. A rebellion is at hand, my brother. We need all the help we can find if we are to ensure our race's survival."

Bulma gaped in shock. Her husband was an _alien_? She had always known that there had been something a little _off_ about him but this… Suddenly it all made perfect sense: the tail, the strength, how he had been able to make her scream in a way that no man before him could. Being alien didn't change anything. She still loved him with all her heart and soul. It was the one primary truth of her existence. She still-Bulma was pulled mercilessly back to the situation at hand by her husband's frightfully solemn words.

"I am an earthling," he stated, his tone dull… blank.

"This," he added, gesturing to his gathered friends. "Is the only race I know."

Radditz scowled in disgust, glaring disdainfully at the odd assortment.

"A decrepit old man, three-eyed circus freak, clown doll, bald midget, revolting pig creature and old turtle?" he asked incredulously. "You would fight for them… but not for us?"

"Yes," Goku replied without hesitation. "I would."

"A true Saiyan would never embrace this ball of dirt," Radditz snarled in disgust. "You repulse me! You leave me no choice, brother. Destroy Earth or be destroyed."

Bulma whimpered. Her legs felt like jelly and her head was swimming. She grabbed her husband's arm, struggling not to collapse.

Goku sighed, turning to her and grabbing her by the shoulder's, steadying his wife. He kissed her softly on the forehead and then passionately on the lips.

"I am about to face an enemy ten times my strength," he whispered, staring sincerely into her emerald depths now obscured by tears. "I cannot promise you that I will win but I can promise that I will fight my hardest to protect the two things that mean the most to me: you and Gohan. With Kami as my witness I will fight until I am dead one million times over to ensure your safety. I can only hope that will be enough."

Bulma let out a chocked sob, her husband turning his back on her to face his inevitable doom. She collapsed to the ground in utter, bone-chilling defeat. The truth had been clear as day: he didn't stand a chance. Crystal tears began their gentle descent down her heart-broken features.

"Earth is my home and my family is here," her husband declared. "Nothing and no-one could make me destroy it. Nor will I stand back and let anyone do this place, of these people, any harm. In the name of all that is righteous and holy I will defeat you. I am an Earthling!"

Powering up to his full potential he charged his enraged sibling.

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"Kakkarot has a mate and child," Vegeta said callously to his bald companion, his tone dull and unfeeling. "Apparently Earthling's are compatible with the Saiyan gene. And can you feel the child's power? His mate could be quite useful to us."

"Indeed my Prince. Shall I dispose of the half-breed?"

"No Nappa. Full blood or half-breed we need all the Saiyans we can get to aid in our rebellion. Besides, I have a feeling the woman would not be so… helpful if she were to lose her husband _and_ child."

"Yes sire, I agree," Nappa replied, turning, indifferently, to the fight at hand.

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Bulma mouth gaped open in shock and horror. Her beloved husband, the strongest warrior Earth had to offer, was fighting his hardest and yet he could not even land a punch on the older man claiming to be his kin. Her heart was shattered, her nerves frayed to breaking point. There had to be something she could do, anything. She couldn't just sit back and watch him succumb to defeat. She couldn't just sit back and watch him… die. She couldn't!

The feeling was shared by all the fighters present. They, too, could hardly believe it. Their minds struggled to come to terms with what their eyes were seeing. Goku, the one who had always come to everyone's rescue, was losing a fight… And badly, at that. It just wasn't possible. Surely it wasn't possible.

"We have to help him," Krillan muttered. Working on instinct he jumped beside Goku, desperate to aid his long-time friend. Perhaps if Krillan had have taken a second, one seemingly insignificant heartbeat, to contemplate how impossibly high the odds were stacked against him he would have lived a little longer. But the short, bald man, who always had the ability to summon up just enough bravery when a loved one was in need, had never been one to think things through. The second Radditz noticed his presence Krillan's life was forfeit. The bulky man, a scowl clearly present on his irritation features, did not take kindly to others interrupting his fights. With a small, habitual ki shot, born from years of merciless killing, Krillan was no more. His body, robbed of it's last breath, fell beside Bulma with a small, barely perceptible thud.

She whimpered softly, reaching out to touch his cold features. His eyes were wide in shock. He hadn't even seen it coming. And from the amount of effort Radditz had needed to do it...Was ending a life really so inanely simple as that? Could such injustice possibly exist? Bulma looked up like a deer caught in the headlights and shivered, clinging to her child in a vain attempt to shield him from such sickening brutality.

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Goku slammed into the battered fighting ground for what seemed the hundredth time. His limbs shook as he struggled to stand, giving Radditz time to think. The last twist had thrown him. Another warrior aiding his fellow was practically unthought of in Frieza's army. It was kill or be killed, simple and clean, and only the strongest survived. There were no helping hands, no tag-teaming, no friendly pats on the back. More to the point it was considered pathetic and dishonourable to fight a fellow warrior that way. Radditz had well and truly had enough of the warped humans and their woeful logic and he intended to make dead sure there would be no more unwelcome and unwarranted _distractions_. Sighing thoughtfully he rose one deadly finger and shot over one hundred random and deadly ki balls.

"Goodbye weaklings," he muttered.

* * *

She should be screaming. That was the obvious response, perhaps even the smart one. But Bulma had been rendered speechless and immobile. Panic had consumed her. Death was rearing its gruesome head, set on stealing her life and that of her child, and she couldn't do a thing. She was paralysed in fear. Blood blurred her vision. It was everywhere. It seemed to encompass her in an endless sea of red. Was it her husbands? Her friends? Maybe it was her own. A weak sob escaped her constricted throat and she closed her eyes, waiting for the deadly blow to fall: the quick, ruthless beam that would end her life and eradicate her child's future. At least it would be painless. She prayed Goku's inevitable end would be too. At least they would all be together in the next. She shivered, utterly defeated, and waited; fear magnifying the seconds and making them seem like hours, years, decades. And yet still she waited… and waited. Everything was silent. She wasn't dead. Her eyelid fluttered open to meet the sight of a muscled abdomen covered in blue spandex. Someone had saved her. Blue spandex and a frame smaller than her husband's… The prince. Relief, surprise and confusion washed over her. Why wasn't she dead? Why wasn't she destroyed as her friends had been? More importantly, why did their leader – the monster who seemingly felt no pity or remorse – save her?

Her blue eyes, wide and curious, scanned his body, surveying the rippling muscles and well-built frame. So similar and yet so different to Goku. Awe-inspiring power lay inside his body; so perceptible she could almost see it. Their close proximity ignited her skin. The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end and a tiny shiver ran down her spine. A daunting, terrifying power indeed. One to be feared by all. Fire and ice. And yet there was something soothing, enchanting, even peaceful about it; to be held in the arms of someone who could crush you without a second thought but chose not to. It was precisely how she felt when with Goku. In fact it was that unnameable quality which had first attracted her; the thought of a Godlike power held at bay to please her. She couldn't help but feel calm in the Prince's gentle, yet furious, embrace. She knew it was wrong… But she couldn't help it. She was mystified.

_Besides he's not so bad, _she thought, her hands working with a mind of their own as they gently swept over his muscled abdomen. She found herself oblivious to the knowledge that his soldier was, under orders by him, currently killing the man she loved. In fact, at that very moment, she was unaware her husband even existed. All that mattered was the man before her who held the power of God. She smiled, utterly succumbed to the Prince's mystical charm. Her crystal orbs ventured shyly to his own deep black depths… and the spell was shattered. She screamed, reality washing over her in ebony waves of unnameable fear. How could she have thought he was like Goku? How could she have even compared the two?

'The eyes are the window to the soul' her mother had always told her. 'It's there that lies fail, truth shines and you can see a person for who they really are.'

It was true. And in the Prince's coal black depths she had seen all she had needed to. She had seen a monster. She screamed again.

* * *

Goku was succumbing to exhaustion. He couldn't help it. Radditz's fists, coated with a thick layer of Goku's blood, collided with his heavily bleeding body again… and again… and again. Losing was inevitable, that much had become apparent. He didn't stand a chance. But that was old news. The only variable was how long he could continue this charade before his body simple refused to move another inch. Then Bulma screamed and the table's turned.

Crimson light engulfed the fallen warrior, igniting him with raw, brutal power. He screamed as it filled his veins, his body alight in unholy flame. His heart pounded in his ears. He was renewed. Snarling, he threw a vicious punch at his loathed sibling's torso, sending the shocked man sailing into a nearby tree with a heavy THUMP!

"No-one hurts my family and gets away with it,"  
he yelled, engulfed by righteous anger. "NO-ONE!"

* * *

Vegeta was intrigued. The weakling women had been anxiously exploring his body and then, as though snapping from a trance, the screaming had began. If you could call it screaming that is: a high-pitched wail that would have burst a weaker man's eardrums. He had seen many frightened women before but none so attuned to bawling as this one. He was almost certain her shrill cry was intended to inflict physical pain. In all honestly he couldn't say it was entirely ineffective.

Vegeta snarled, deciding that no women, compatible or not, was worth it. His clenched his fist with every intention of landing a deadly blow. He didn't even come close.

Vegeta couldn't help but groan as he felt the wind knocked out of him, the annoying woman and her child stolen from his grasp.

* * *

Bulma gazed tearfully into her husband's eyes.

"Thank-you," she whispered, her voice heavy with the admiration, respect and love that overcame her as he placed both mother and child in the relative safety of the Roshi house. Raw anger radiated from Goku in waves as he turned back to the fight at hand.

_"_You're gonna pay now," Bulma whispered maliciously. "Oh boy, you are gonna pay."

* * *

Radditz could hardly believe it. Less than five minutes ago his detested brother Kakkarot couldn't even land a punch and now he – Radditz, one of Frieza's elite mercenary – was struggling. How could someone improve so much so fast?

He feigned to the left, attempting to land a deep punch in Kakkarot mid-section. All he met was air. He growled, utterly irritated.

"How did you get so strong?" Radditz hissed. Where the hell was he? His movements were so swift that Radditz could barely keep track. Goku appeared suddenly behind him.

"Simple _brother_," he replied, releasing a relentless ball of light into his brother's unguarded back. "My family."

The long-haired warrior had no time to block or even dodge the merciless attack. No time to contemplate his inevitable demise. All thoughts were lost as the powerful blow wholly disintegrated his body, sending him to a place that knows no love, compassion or sympathy. The place where the rest of his race had wallowed for over two decades. He was going home. With a gurgled choke of fear, Radditz was no more.

* * *

Outwardly, Nappa appeared indifferent. But inside he was a mixture of rampaging emotions: curiosity, wonder and something that resembled respect for the Earthling warrior. Kakkarot had defeated his junior – one of Frieza's elites – without breaking a sweat. Nappa found it baffling. The beginning of the fight had shown Radditz as the inevitable victor and yet the lesser warrior had still managed to gain the upper hand, apparently through sheer will power alone. Not to mention the fact that he had somehow been able to place a blow, albeit off guard, on the Prince Of All Saiyans himself; undoubtedly the strongest warrior, aside from Frieza, that this pathetic universe had on offer. It was quite an astonishing feat.

Unfortunately for Kakkarot the Prince looked rightly pissed. He had just lost one of his ever-declining army. Not to mention the fact that the third-class fool had had to audacity to strike him. Vegeta had always been a sucker for revenge.

"Nappa, kill the weakling!" he stated indifferently. "And be quick about it. I plan to get off this ball of mud some time in the next century."

Without hesitation Nappa took the place of his fallen colleague.

* * *

Even in his re-energised state Goku was thoroughly out-classed. Though the tall, balding Saiyan was not particularly fast nor cunning he was, by far, the better fighter. Nevertheless Goku, fuelled by un-ending desire to protect his family, put his all into the un-winnable battle. It took Nappa ten minutes to reduce Goku from invincible warrior to a man hanging onto his life by a thread. Every time his shaking limbs would offer enough support to raise him, Nappa would immediately push him down again. But he couldn't give in. _He couldn't_. He stood for the millionth time. Brute force rammed his battered body to the ground. Silently he registered the fact that he would never stand again. These were his last minutes on Earth. These were the last breaths he would ever take. He tried, in vain, to raise himself, coughing up tiny droplets of crimson blood, and fell to the ground for the last time. The sky looked so beautiful from down here. Why hadn't he ever noticed that before? The sun shone, bright and beautiful, and the sky was a luminous, shimmering blue. Stunning. So like the exotic emerald depths of his wife and child. His family…

* * *

Bulma watched the scenes unfold before her like those from a overly dramatic film. Her husband – her Goku – couldn't win. She winced every time he was thrown mercilessly to the ground. He didn't stand a chance. She had known that ever since she first witnessed his uncharacteristically grim façade. She had felt the stinging reality of defeat in the air, heard it in her husband's voice and seen it in his eyes. That grim moment that had signalled a chain of events too frightening to contemplate and too cruel to be real. She had felt her life changing. She had seen Goku's life like the last few grains of delicate sand in an hourglass trickling slowly to the bottom. She had known it all yet only now, as the facts were shoved ruthlessly in her face, was she able to admit it to herself.

Though she tried to stop them the harsh tears of reality began cascading down her cheeks. Sobbing silently she clung to her child, shielding him with her body and her sorrow; shielding him from the fatherless world that was steadily approaching. Her husband had stopped moving. She crawled from the small yellow building towards the image of a dying man. She had to do something, anything at all, to help him. But she couldn't. It was already over. Reaching his mangled body she kissed his soft lips, willing him to get up and live even if it meant that she would not.

"Get up, Goku," she pleaded in desperation. She rested her head on his chest, listening in dull horror as his heartbeat slowed. She closed her eyes, praying to every god in existence that he would get up, get up and live, please Goku just get up and live! But it was a lost cause… and she knew it. The fact repulsed her – how dare she sign her husband's own death warrant! How dare her heart betray him when he needed her the most! How dare she lose faith! If only she had his courage, his determination, his hope. If only she had let him train more often. If only she had loved him more. If only-

"PLEASE JUST GET UP!" she screamed, the black demon panic scratching to be set free from it's caged hollow in her mind.

His eyes fluttered open, pain etching his features. Calm rationality swept over her. She had to be strong, if only for a second, to hear her husband's last words. Tears streamed down her face.

Goku raised a shaking hand with the last of his strength and gently brushed the crystal tears from his beloved's eyes.

"Live well my darling," he whispered, forcing a smile. If this was to be his deathbed then he wanted and needed her last memories of him to be good ones. Even if it was an act – smiling when his soul was shattered at the thought of losing her – he would pull it off to perfection. For Bulma and for his son. So that they may live on.

"Please be happy," he forced, his throat constricted with emotion. A bright white light encompassed his vision. Was this heaven? The pain was gone. He felt at peace. It was nice. But he couldn't leave yet. There was one last thing he had to say. One last thing _she_ had to know.

"Never ever forget… that I will… I will _always and forever…_ love… love you… Forever…"

"Disgraceful," Nappa rasped, utterly disgusted by the overly poignant scene. "Emotion's are for weaklings and that pretty much sums you up to a tee. A Saiyan as pathetic as yourself would be a discredit to our race. I gladly rid your despicable presence from this world. Maybe you will find real honour in the next."

Nappa aimed a beam of pinpoint energy at Goku's heart.

"Hopefully your son shall not turn out so pitiful as you," he added cruelly, letting loose the small red beam that ended the life of the greatest, most honourable warrior the universe had ever known.

A searing pain ripped through Bulma's heart, shattering it into a million pieces as she watched the deadly blast pass through her husband's chest, eradicating his life. She screamed, pain overcoming her. Closing her eyes she succumbed to the darkness which had now consumed her life, her being and her soul.

* * *

_Will Bulma be able to survive with the love of her life harshly stolen from her life? What will happen to Gohan? Will she be able to fight the lust the Prince inspires within her._

_Find out this and more next time on DragonBall Z._


	3. The Battle Begins

**_Disclaimer:_ **I don't own it, just completely obsessed with it. (Duh!)

**One Simple Decision Can Change Everything  
**

**Chapter 2: The battle begins**

She woke suddenly, her eyes wide and questioning. Where was she? Icy metal and pitch black darkness entombed her. The foul reek of death and decay invaded her senses. The cold, the dark, the intolerable stench overwhelmed her. Things, beings who probably possessed far greater power than she, had died here. Died effortlessly, pathetically; left to rot for no greater crime than existing. Perhaps she would die here too. Die, just like he had. She wrapped herself into a ball in a vain attempt to shield her mind from the vicious onslaught of memories the thought brought forth. _Goku. _Her husband's blood as it pooled around his dying form. His last, agonized breath as he stared deeply into her eyes. His final, heart-felt, heart-breaking words. The cruel memory carved painfully into her soul for all eternity. The moment her lover, her husband, her best friend was murdered. The moment her happiness, her very life, ended.

She glanced around, struggling to get her bearings in an attempt to distract herself from her ominous thoughts. Absolute darkness entombed her. She couldn't even see her shaking hands as she raised them barely a foot from her face. She couldn't see anything at all. She absently rubbed a small cut along her collarbone. Just another of the endless scars the battle had wrought. Scars, both physical and emotional, that would never heal. And now, in the ultimate twist of irony, she was being kept a prisoner of the very men who had forged them. It terrified her to think that the same murderous monsters, the very cause of her unrelenting pain, now held herself and her son captive. What possible purpose could they, a small child and alien woman, have? She shuddered and the inevitable tears began to flow. How could Kami have let this happen? Her everything stolen from her in one agonised heartbeat. Why was fate so cruel? She had been no saint but surely she didn't deserve this. Surely. And her son, her guiltless, pure, perfect son. How could destiny be so merciless to a child, a baby, barely given the opportunity to live? Her Gohan. Her beloved. Her oxygen. Her… It was a delayed reaction. A reaction belated by shock, by fear and, most of all, by searing, unconquerable pain. But at the moment, like a hammer pounding that last annihilating nail into the coffin of her soul, she realised that her baby, her everything, was not there with her.

She collapsed to the floor, physically drained, as she was hit brutally by three harsh truths. One: her husband was dead. Two: she was being held prisoner by his murderers. And three: her son, her precious child, her only lifeline to the world beyond, was Kami knew where. Her heart could barely take the pain. Without Gohan what was left to live for? What? Unrelenting pain, unimaginable sorrow, unconquerable nothingness. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, willing herself to wake from this nightmare of unconceivable horror.

_"_It can't be real, It just _can't_ be real," she whispered, her voice echoing eerily, emptily in the hollow room. "It must be a dream. Surely it must."

But it wasn't… and she knew that. She had to calm down. She had to take control. The callous dragon Panic fought desperately against it's bars in the cell of her mind, hissing ruthlessly, anxious to be set free. Bulma denied it liberty. Taking a deep breath, she distanced herself from emotion. She had to _think_. Gohan wasn't there, sure, but that didn't mean he was… not living. In fact, she was sure she had heard _someone_ mention _something_ about keeping him alive. Her as well, for that matter. He was probably being kept somewhere equally dark, dreary and out of the way. But at least he'd was alive. Of that she was sure. Somewhere deep down, some unimaginable part of the psyche never mapped by humankind, she was sure.

"Gohan. I'm coming for you baby," she whispered to the empty room. "Mommy's coming for you."

Like a religious mantra the words renewed her strength, igniting a will to simply persevere. Her soul fuelled by a maternal magic that encompassed her very being; a motherly instinct so deep that it engulfed and eradicated all sorrow and fear, everything bar a deep-set desire to find and rescue her child. Everything stopped: the tears, the ominous contemplation, everything. The need to protect her one and only – her son - was the one thing, the only thing, on her mind. It was all that mattered… _he_ was all that mattered. Protecting him was the all that remained from her former life; the one freedom, albeit small, that had yet to be stolen from her. She pushed her numb body from the ground, her shapely legs trembling beneath her. It was time she retrieved that which had been taken. It was time to take back her Gohan.

Feeling her way around the dark cell she began her search. Her small hands ran blindly over endless metal panels, meticulously scanning desperately for something, anything to aid her in her escape. Tiring, tedious work driven by nothing more than a mothers desire to rescue her child. Eventually, after hours of delicate probing, she came across a strange panel made of a more thickset texture. She'd be all over the place and this had to be it. Her answer, her saviour, her escape - the door. After a small victory dance she got to work, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her hands worked slowly, carefully surveying the exit. They slid scrupulously over every hard crest and bump, painstakingly looking for a small indent, latch or handle - anything that would mean escape. After several failed attempts her heart began to sink. This door, if that was indeed what it was, had to be electronic. She collapsed to the ground in frustration. If only she could see. She could dismantle an inner panel and open the door manually. If only she could see. She raised her hands, besieged and annoyed, and began to hammer relentlessly on the hard steel door, bruising her knuckles in the process. She was getting out of there Kami dammit. One way, or the other, she was getting out of there. She could no longer tolerate the cold, the dark or the nauseating smell that seemed to pervade her with it's noxious presence. If she couldn't escape by herself then she'd make them let her out. She'd make so much noise and irritate her captors so thoroughly that they'd have no choice. She was Bulma Briefs after all. Genius inventor, beautiful heiress and possessor of, quite possibly, the most ear splitting shriek in the entire universe. They were going to let her out. The rest she would figure out as she went along.

Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours. Her once perfectly manicured hands lay in bloody tatters. And yet she continued her relentless pounding. Her mind was numb, blank. Nothing mattered but Gohan… nothing. Memories of his precious face, his rosy cheeks, his carefree smile flashed through her mind like a miracle fuel that drove her endless and seemingly vain pursuit. She started to scream, her fists leaking pools of bloody crimson onto the cool metal floor. Her feeble grip on sanity began to fail as she screeched at the tailed men; demanding that they let her out; demanding that they return her child; demanding that they take her home; demanding that they help her. She would never give up, didn't they know that? She was not someone to mess with and she was no weakling, no coward. She would never, ever give up. Not until victory was hers.

Her pounding and screaming remained unrelenting. For hours upon hours she sustained her angry tirade, screaming her voice hoarse and leaving her hands nothing but tattered remains of their former selves. Still no one came. No saviour to free her, no mercy to aid her, no son to save her. Nothing… just aggravating, nauseating silence. But she would not stop. Nothing but her liberty could make her.

Quite suddenly, a foreign scent invaded her senses. Out of the blue her eyes felt heavy and she swayed on the spot, her croaky scream cut short. Her head was swimming. What in the world was going on? What was happening to-She collapsed to the ground, robbed of the strength to sit upright. A solitary tear ran down her torn features. In the last fleeting moments of consciousness she made a promise to herself. Steeling her resolve she swore never to shed another tear nor allow herself to grieve until she had found a way to free both her son and herself. Until then she would be strong, for herself, for her husband but mostly for Gohan. There would be time for tears, grief and pain later.

_I will be strong for you Gohan… Goku. I'll make you proud! _were her last thoughts as unconsciousness flooded over her.

* * *

Vegeta laughed, malicious and victorious. The weakling woman had finally put an end to her nonsensical and exceedingly irritating outburst. Chemical Xefon756 had made sure of that.

_About time, _he thought to himself. _Who would have thought such a pathetically weak creature could have a voice strong enough to be heard through Meklanahian mental. So fiery for one so weak. It will be quite entertaining to watch the whore fall._

Nappa, his childhood bodyguard and most loyal servant, appeared suddenly before him, rudely snapping Vegeta from his dark thoughts.

"Yes?" the Dark Prince queried callously.

"Sire," Nappa saluted, bowing stiffly. "I've just received a progress report from Medical and you were quite right: the boy is said to have an extremely high power level for a Saiyan child of his age. The fact of his half-bred parentage just adds to the overall oddness of his case. Nonetheless with the woman on our side he should be quite easy to bend to our will. The child will make an excellent and _crucial_ addition to the cause."

"Good," Vegeta replied, nodding his head in obvious dismissal. Nappa ignored his Prince's gesture, his lip twitching rebelliously. He remained stock still, staring silently at his monarch. First rule to ensuring a… pleasant relationship with Vegata: never speak unless spoken too. He was the Prince after all and Nappa was fiery, unquestionably loyal to the crown. Besides serving Vegeta had been his life for the last 22 years. Occasionally, though, loyalty had it's limits. This happened to be one of them. Though sharing views with someone as arrogant and hard headed as The Prince was a needlessly arduous and complex task Nappa had little intention of leaving until he'd spoken his peace. Being one of only two remaining full blood Saiyans had to allow for some rights and what he had to say was far too important to be silenced. He refused to let himself be intimidated by the younger man's power. It was high time Vegeta began listening to the advice of his elders. Leaders were supposed to represent their people not themselves and, like it or not, Nappa would have his say. Steeling his resolve, he waited patiently for permission to do so.

Vegeta stared coldly at Nappa, silently declaring a staring contest, a juvenile battle of the wills. He was well aware that the older man was itching to say something, probably to add his half-whit opinion on yet another issue that was none of his concern. Who did he think he was anyway? He may have been an elite warrior, the last remaining soldier of a near extinct race, but that did not give him the right to presume his judgment mattered. Nor did it pardon him from defying his Prince in such a blatantly obvious manor. His insubordination enraged Vegeta. No one mattered but him. He was the last sovereign of the almighty Saiyan race, the strongest of his kind, the man prophesised to achieve legendary status. Didn't the moronic fool realise that? Didn't Nappa understand that, in the overall scheme of the universe, he was nothing but a speck of unsightly mud on The Prince's boot?! How dare he! Had it been anyone else Vegeta would have killed them within a heartbeat of their attempted defiance. Nappa was lucky Vegeta happened to be in a good mood.

"What is it now soldier?" The Prince asked darkly, after minutes, which seemed hours, of tense silence. Nappa sighed in relief, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, sire," he replied, respectful and somewhat smug. "I suggest that, now the woman has… _calmed, _it would be a wise move to more formally make her acquaintance."

"I have no intention of doing anything of the like, Nappa. You are dismissed."

Vegeta turned from Nappa in clear discharge. Nappa could almost feel the insanely thin ice crack beneath his feet as he remained in place, openly defying his monarch once more. Didn't Vegeta realise that it was important to keep the woman on their side? Didn't he understand how moronic he was being? Kami knew that she was a crucial part in their play for the universe _before _they'd discovered her background in the advanced empire of capsulated technology. _That _little tit bit branded her indispensable. For the good of their impending empire it was imperative that they remained in her good graces. Even though he knew The Prince would never admit it, they _needed _her cooperation. Keeping her in a space lock was not, in Nappa's opinion, a good way of getting it. For a smart man sometimes Vegeta could be unbelievably obtuse.

"Sire, please excuse my impertinence, but don't you think that she is likely to be less er… _helpful_, as you yourself put it, the longer we leave her down there?"

Vegeta curled his fists and snarled menacingly as he turned on his bald subordinate, no longer masking the sadistic thoughts that played across his otherwise blank features.

"DO NOT QUESTION ME, NAPPA!" he roared. "It is I and I alone who has the right to make decisions. _You_ have no claim to anything. You are just a pawn in my game, to be disposed of if and when I so choose. So, unless you would like to be added to the growing number of Saiyan mortalities, I suggest you leave my sight at once. If you value your life you will never again presume to tell me what I should or should not do!"

Nappa sighed and swiftly exited the bridge, leaving the irate Prince with his malicious thoughts. He'd spoken out against Vegeta to his face and lived to tell the tale. It was a start.

Vegeta laughed, the sound utterly hollow and joyless as it echoed throughout the cavernous room. What a fool his childhood bodyguard was! Had he really thought Vegeta, the future Emperor of the Universe, would listen to his idiotic, sentimental ideas. A fool indeed! But it was of no consequence, he would deal with Nappa's disobedience later. Right now his focus was more aptly placed on the weakling woman and her powerful offspring.

_Yes,_ he thought, malicious scenarios running through his sadistic mind._ Perhaps Nappa is right. Maybe it _is_ about time I more _formally_ made her acquaintance._

* * *

Bulma woke groggily. Her head spun and she resisted the urge to vomit as nauseous waves rolled over her. She pulled herself to a sitting position, grasping the wall for support as, once again, she was stung by the harsh claws of reality. However this time sorrow was not her prevailing emotion.

"I can't believe it!" she cried, balling her fists. "I can't fucking believe it! After everything else those Bastards, those cheap, pathetic, daft bastards, had the nerve to _gas_ me. How fucking dare they!?"

Her one-sided question was answered by a disturbing laugh. The utter hollowness of the sound chilled her to the core. She shivered, her anger giving way to more primal instincts. Her heart raced, her desire for freedom utterly quelled. As dark, as dreary, as ominous as her cell was it kept her safe and away from the… _thing, _whatever it was, lurking outside. A creature so dark it's mere _laugh_ suppressed the overwhelming curiosity that usually drove her. At least in here she was safe. She clamped her eyes shut in a frazzled panic, silently praying that the steel between her and the ominous beast would forever remain. Her panicked wishes fell on deaf ears. Suddenly the door, the previous bane of her existence, flew callously open. Her heart stopped. Harsh, blinding light flooding the cell. Bulma blinked repeatedly, temporarily blinded by it's brilliance. She could just make out a hazy silhouette floating threateningly in the centre of absolute white. The monster. Her heart began to hammer in her chest.

"Wh-Who is it? Who's there?" she stammered. She raised her hands, blinking through the light, desperate to get her bearings. She fully expected the dull groan of some malicious nightmare beast to answer her. That, or for her head to be ripped from her torso in a animalistic bout of sadistic blood lust.

"Idiot woman," it replied. "_You_ actually thought you could escape from a Saiyan space lock? No warrior could. Let alone a weak, ugly, idiot woman such as yourself."

The visage of her captors _Prince_ swam into view and the fear vanished instantly. First they'd killed her friends, then her husband, then, probably, her planet. The rest of her family they'd kidnapped and imprisoned. And now, after everything, they had the audacity, their so called Prince actually had the audacity, to insult her. How dare they? _How fucking dare they_?!

"Who. The. Hell do you think you're talking to, _Buddy_?" she ground out, gritting her teeth as she pointed menacingly in his direction. "I'll have you know that I am Bulma Briefs - the most talented, educated, witty and beautiful creature on Earth. Probably in the whole universe."

Vegeta smirked at the Blue-Haired Banshee. She was a fiery one indeed. Her stared at the state of her hands, somewhat amazed. She beaten them into tattered shreds and yet she had continued her arduous task to a point where they'd had to drug her. What amazing will for one so powerless! Couple that with her son's strength, her taming of a Saiyan warrior, her scientific genius and her supreme arrogance and she was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. This game was going to be entertaining indeed.

Vegeta laughed sadistically at the thought.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she screamed, enraged by the idea that someone might dare mock her. "Why I'll-"

"You'll what, woman?" he asked cruelly, cutting her off mid-sentence. "_You_ are in no position to be making threats. You have no power here, no standing. I can crush you in a microsecond if I so choose."

He had expected tears, fear, defeat. What he got shocked him. His words, like some dark and powerful magic, instantly drained her of all rage. She stood before him fearless, strong. The response he knew well, normally born from years of unrelenting pain, unbelievable fear and unspeakable sorrow. The final strength mastered as one resigns themselves to defeat - their head held high as the last of their dying breath is ruthlessly stolen away. His arrogance faltered slightly.

"Do what you want to me," she muttered, her voice strong. "I am not afraid. I will _not_ cower!"

Vegeta was in genuine shock and, for perhaps the first time in his life, he was at a lost for words. He had bathed in blood his entire life and knew death intimately. When placed in a potentially life threatening situation it was common for people to become weak and snivelling cowards, begging for the lives of their family or, more commonly, their own to be spared. Few feigned fearlessness. Fewer actually felt it. But this woman –this deplorably weak woman – could, honestly, care less. He could feel it in the air, smell it on her skin. Hell, he could almost taste it. He turned to the one outlet that always gave the game away, the window to the soul that he had trained so long and so hard to veil. A small chill crept up his spine as onyx eyes met a pair of deep cerulean ones. It was the eyes that always gave the game away and right now what he was seeing in her was… nothing. Absolute strength. Had this woman really lost so much of herself that nothing fazed her? He had thought himself to be the only person in the universe to suffer so much that fearlessness became inevitable. He was amazed and thrown. But mostly he was angry. What right did she have to feel this way? What right did she have to lose all fear after only such an insignificant personal loss. She hadn't been through half of what he had. She had no idea what pain, real searing, unconquerable pain, was like. He shook his head. She had no right and he would no longer stand by idly and allow her unwarranted impertinence to continue.

"You may not care about what I do to _you_," Vegeta said, skilfully veiling his anger as he ruthlessly attacked the woman's only perceivable weakness. "But what about your _son_?"

Bulma cringed, breaking out of her toughened state his words struck her like a blade to the heart. She crumpled to the floor, utterly defeated and alone. Was it always going to be like this? Constantly broken, beaten and battered by her dead love's kin. Broken to a point where even death couldn't save her. She had promised never to cower… and yet she had no choice. She glanced hatefully at the man. In the end she would be victorious. In the end…

"What do I have to do to get him back?" she muttered.

"Come," he replied, his arrogance so thick it was almost corporeal. Bulma scowled, her only act of defiance as she mutely following the _Prince_ down a long and narrow steel corridor.

_At least I'm in the light_, she thought, contemplating the few blessings she had left. _I suppose that's something to be happy about. Plus Gohan is safe, His Almighty Pain In The Ass just confirmed as much._

Thoughts of her lost child overcame her and she glared venomously at the back of her captor, mentally willing him dead. How dare he put in her in this position. She was a mother without a child. A enslaved woman who's only perceivable solace was light and a faint inkling that her son was safe. Was this what her life had come to? How inconceivably solemn! She had to get out of her. No alien scum would beat her, she was The Ever Invincible Bulma Briefs. She _would_ be victorious.

Her genius mind went into overtime, meticulously scanning a thousand and one escape scenarios. Nearly all featured, in rather gory detail, the So-Called-Prince's untimely demise. She smirked. With Kami as her witness she would kill the bastard before her. Then both herself and her son would be free to return Earth... If it was still there. And if not there was a whole universe at her disposal. So long as her child was with her anywhere was fine. Anywhere but here. Maybe she could use poison? Or some sort of transformation device that obscured a person's identity? Perhaps she could make a ki inhibitor? Or she could develop a drug that would give her a boost in power? Maybe even-

"Any attempt at escape is futile," said The Prince, throwing an icy scowl over his shoulder and giving her the chilling impression that he was somewhat telepathic. "Such thoughts will only bring you more pain. The more _co-operative_ you choose to be the easier you will find your life here."

Bulma quickly recovered from her initial shock, Vegeta's arrogant words further fuelling her suppressed anger.

"You actually expect me to take orders from _you_?!" she hissed rebelliously. "You may be the Prince of some freakish pre-evolved race but to me you're little more than a thorn in my side!"

Vegeta had had enough. Enough of her pitchy voice, enough of her arrogant remarks, enough of her impertinence. She was nothing but a pawn in his game: the only woman in perhaps the whole universe that could reproduce with a Saiyan. If not for his knowledge of the incomprehensible torment that awaited her he would have killed her right then and there. But he wanted her alive. He wanted to watch as she lost all fight, her arrogance nothing more than a faint and fleeting memory as she begged for her end. He wanted to witness her fall. Nonetheless it was high time the baka woman learnt her place.

He turned on her, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her weak, utterly breakable body against the cold steel wall. He snarled.

"You _will_ do as I say," he hissed, his grip tightening menacingly. "Or your _son_ will suffer the consequences."

Bulma cringed at his threat, his words robbing her of the will to fight. Vegeta smirked, dropping her prone body to the floor.

"Besides," he muttered. "Thoughts of escape are pointless as there is no longer anywhere for you to go back to. Your planet was destroyed shortly after you lost consciousness."

Bulma glared daggers of pure hate at the monster as she fought the sorrow that threatened to consume her. Billions of people, thousands of animal and plant species all lost in one seemingly insignificant heartbeat. Eradicated at the whim of a tyrant. She had thought it to be so and yet… and yet until he had said it, until the uncaring words had callously parted his lips, she hadn't. Hadn't acknowledged that her all, her everything, was gone. She was the last human being. A woman robbed of her husband, her planet, her entire race. Her mind tore. Her sanity threatened to shatter. Her family, her friends, all innocent inhabitants of her beautiful emerald Earth were gone. Forever. And there was nothing she could do about. Nothing at all.

"Bastard," she whimpered, forcing her shaking limbs upright. She followed him. Followed because she had no choice. All her options were gone. Gohan was all that remained. He was her everything; her only thing. And, right now, she needed him more than she'd ever needed anything or anyone in her life.

Vegeta laughed viciously; his eyes, his voice, his very persona detached and empty. Stupid woman. She had no idea. No idea at all.

_What a fuck_, Bulma thought, her former scowl returning full force as she once again suppressed the pain that threatened to break her. Had she the strength she would have killed the arrogant Prince right then and there for no greater reason than his utterly detested laughter. She had never hated anyone so much in her entire life.

_He has the audacity to mock and threaten me, making out like he's so big and mighty. He's just a idiotic monkey man with barely enough strength to make up for his lack of brains. I'm going to kill him the first chance I get. Just wait, he'll rue the day he ever decided to take on Bulma Briefs and Planet Earth_._ He'll rue the mother-fucking day!_

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked contemptuously, breaking herself from her vindictive contemplation to focus on her immediate predicament. "What do you need _me_ for?"

"You shall see," was her only reply. The sadistic laugher that lingered in his words drained the colour from her face. What was he planning? Bulma found that, at least at this moment in time, she had no desire to find out. She kept her mouth firmly shut, her anxiety to reach their destination far outweighing any need for answers. Silent loathing was just as fun and just as effective. The rest of their journey down the deserted corridors continued in ominous silence, Bulma contemplating Vegeta's demise and Vegeta contemplating just about everybody's. One track minds.

After what seemed years of endless, pointless walking the Prince stopped, suddenly. Bulma almost crashed right into him, stopping just a few centimetres short. She jumped back, scowling venomously at his back. Apparently they had reached their destination and, in Bulma's opinion, it was not a second too soon.

_Perhaps Gohan is inside_, she thought hopefully, her eyes lighting up. She meticulously studied the large, imposing steel door before her. Fixed to it's left was a small keypad and monitor. Apparently the ship's security and lock systems were fully electronic. She smirked. Science. This was something she knew, something she could use to her advantage. This seemingly insignificant error - underestimating the frail and weak Earthling girl - would cost them dearly. Bulma watched carefully as Vegeta keyed in the 6-digit cipher. The symbols were entirely foreign and yet she stored each one assiduously away in her genius mind.

_So much for no _escape, she thought haughtily.

A small electronic beep sounded somewhere inside the door's mechanics and it flew suddenly open, revealing a large, extremely decorative room. Had this been a different time and place Bulma could have swooned at the absolute magnificence before her; astonishing was an understatement. Lacking as they were in manners, morals and anything that resembled a brain these Monkey Men obviously knew a thing or two about architecture. The room was cavernous, each wall panelled in a magnificent blood red oak. The floor was carpeted by soft, luxurious ebony shag that covered everywhere bar the small immaculate kitchen in the left hand corner closest to her. The kitchen was tiled in stunning, luminous blood red tiles and seemed to possess every convenience ever imagined by human or alien alike. Off to the right of the room was a huge ornate door, decorated with thousands of sparkling precious stones. Hanging from the centre of the main room was the most beautiful crystal chandelier she'd ever seen. It reflected the deep red of the room, glowing luminous like a mystic jewel. She noted absently that, should she ever escape, she'd make sure to have an exact replica made for herself and her son's new home. Apart from that the room was scarcely decorated. At the very back of the room sat two small sofa's, also blood red, that lay to the left and right of the bed a little closer to her. The bed was a humongous four-poster monstrosity bathed in red silk sheets. It was the kinda thing people called in sick for work just to stay home basking in. However, one delicate feature completely overshadowed all else and it was this which now held Bulma's captive attention. The wall before the couches and bed, at the very back of the room, had been replaced by a vast window revealing billions of picturesque stars. They twinkled in their divine glory, vast and amazing specks in the infinite reaches of space. From her vantage point Bulma could even see a few planets - yellow, murky blue and onyx - revolving slowly around their sun as they had for billions of years. Surrounded by a countless number of unnamed stars, planets, solar systems, galaxy's. The breath taking perfection of the universe. It was humbling and for that moment she forget all her pain, fear and woes. Staring out into infinity, Bulma forgot everything at all.

"Amazing," she whispered breathlessly.

"Hardly," Vegeta scoffed. His words slammed her back to reality. As though broken from a spell the rest of the room swan back into view. The rational part of her mind kicked in.

_You idiot_, it screamed frantically at her. _Look at this room. Notice what the centrepiece is? A bed. I think you just found out why they brought you along. You get to be the monkey Prince's new fuck toy_._ His human whore._

Panic threatened to consume her. This was something, perhaps the one thing, that she couldn't fight against. She was a married woman. Her husband was her one and her only, love and lover. His death made little difference. She had never given herself so entirely to a man before and, considering the circumstances, she never planned to again. But Vegeta… he was a cruel, sadistic asshole. Would her consent even matter should he choose to bed her? Surely not. His acts of genocide proved how little honour he possessed. She doubted if such a barbaric race could even fathom the idea of something as sacred as marriage, let alone stick by its strict regulations. And even if they did, strictly speaking Bulma was no longer married… she was a free agent. She was completely and utterly powerless. If he decided to take her she would just have to lay back, wreathing in silent agony. There was nothing she could do.

"W-Why are we h-here?" she asked, trying to mask the feeling of absolute powerlessness that infused her. Her small limbs shook, ignoring her silent, desperate protest to stay strong in the face of incomprehensible torment.

Vegeta scowled at her ungrateful response. He had just shown her into one of the most prestigious rooms aboard his ship. Its mere appearance was intended to ignite awe, joy and mutual respect, subduing the most ruthless of interplanetary dignitaries. One night in Frieza's generous hospitality turned heated arguments with hot-headed leaders into serene concurrence with meek lambs. And yet here she was, a weak, pathetic, alien woman, her voice quivering as she completely disregarded the splendour before her. After all his threats, heated words and physical abuse _this_ was what finally got to her? A _room_?! What was so damn terrifying about a room? Why was she was not astounded and pleased? What _the hell _was wrong with her? Didn't she realise that the room he was giving her was second only to his own? One of the most magnanimous in the whole of Frieza's fleet! This had been the tool he'd intended to use in order to dull the woman into a false sense of security. This very spot had been a integral part of his game. How dare she refuse to play. She was a his pawn, Kami damn it! How dare she show him such blatant disrespect, treat his apparent gifts with such obvious disregard. She would play his game whether she wanted to or not. Even if it meant changing the rules, she would play.

"This will be your quarters for the rest of our journey," he said, his voice icy, robotic. "This ship, formally the 5th primary vessel of Frieza's elite fleet, is intended to carry foreign dignitaries. Aside from your previous _quarters_ this is the most basic room aboard and thus the obvious place to bed a person of your stature."

"Oh," Bulma said, welcome waves of relief washing over her. "This is basic?"

Vegeta nodded falsely, unable to recall a slave ever occupying one of the top quarters on his or any of the fleets ships.

_Unless they were in my bed at the time _he thought darkly and smirked.

Ignoring his sinister look Bulma asked the other query his explanation had prompted.

"What do you mean by 'a person of my stature'?"

"A new requisition of the revived Saiyan Empire," he stated coldly. "A slave."

Bulma opened her mouth, no doubt intent of complaining about her newfound status but Vegeta had had enough. He covered her mouth, pinning her against the wall. This conversation had gone on long enough. He had better things to do.

"To your left," he explained stoically. "Is the kitchen, where you will prepare myself and my men's food each morning, lunch and evening. There are five warriors in total. To the right is your personal bath and dressing rooms. The front door will be locked at all times and can only be opened by myself or someone under my direct orders. Any attempt at escape will result in you and your son's death. Any failure to complete the duties you are given will also result in you and your son's death. I expect breakfast to be ready by precisely 6am tomorrow morning. At that time you will meet me at this door and there you will be given further instructions. Enjoy."

Vegeta laughed as Bulma spluttered in anger, too enraged to speak. He exited the room, slamming the door rudely in her face. He just caught her screams of "Bast-" before the heavy door silenced all sound.

"That should keep her busy," he muttered to himself. In truth, the ship was equipped with a universally renowned chef and dozens of kitchen hands. She needed to cook about as much as he needed to cut his hair and he had no intention of eating anything she made. Yet, every second she spent in the kitchen was another where she was not thinking. Every heartbeat spent slaving for her captors was one where she would be forced to realise her place. Soon she would come to realise how little she was really worth.

Vegeta stalked down to the corridors, laughing all the way.

* * *

"Bastard! You _filthy, rotten BASTARD_!" she screamed as the door was slammed in her face, the dull sound reverberated hollowly throughout the spacious room.

_Stupid Monkey Bastard! _she thought._ After all that he didn't even let me see my baby. Kami, I hope he's alright. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him. And now, to make matters worse, I get the _privilege_ of being cook for the whole horde of alien morons. _

Bulma silently fumed.

_Though, on the bright side, at least I'm out of that cell_, she continued. _A space lock, huh? More like a torture chamber. How dare he leave me there for so long. He thinks he's so good. Well, if mister high and mighty expects me to come running at his beck and call then he's got another thing coming. _

A cunning smirk spread across her features. She had a plan.

"He'll rue the day," she muttered.

Exhausted from the seemingly never-ending day she slumped onto the large bed, immediately falling into a restless sleep.

* * *

Goku stood at the edge of a high precipice overlooking a picturesque forest. A gentle wind blew over him, rustling his clothes and hair. He turned suddenly towards her, his face alight. He beamed, his welcome smile like stunning rays of sunshine after weeks of rain. She grinned back, tears steaming down her face in rivers of joy and relief. A dream! All of it had been some terrible, terrifying dream. But now she was awake and Goku was alive and Earth was safe and she was home and everything was fine once more. Better than fine, really, it was great, superb, magnificent. Strange how one silly nightmare could make you realise just how fathomless and amazing love really was. Tears clouded her vision as she ran to her lover, never again to be parted. She ran and ran. Her smile faded.

"Why aren't I getting any closer?" she whispered, frustrated and sad. She wasn't moving an inch. No matter how much she ran, no matter how fast, she wasn't getting anywhere. The image of her husband was fading, gradually becoming misty and transparent. Almost as though he was… disappearing. But that was impossible, stupid. People didn't just disappear into thin air! Yet as she watched his facial features blurred, becoming indistinguishable. He body became nothing but a coloured haze. She couldn't even recognise him anymore. She thought she saw his mouth move and his distorted voice came to her, carried on the wind like a distant melody of long ago.

"I love you Bulma. Just play by the rules and everything will be fine. Remember the rules."

Real, primal panic settled in. He legs pumped furiously. She had to reach him before… before... She was getting closer. She was nearly there. She could almost touch him. She was inches away. Just a couple more-Clawed hands grabbed her roughly from behind and she watched in torment as the last remnants of her husband dissolved from view.

She screamed.

* * *

Bulma awoke, flinging her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream that spilled forth. So vivid. So _real_. Logic told her it had been a dream. Logic told her she had not just seen her dead husband, that he had not just sent her a message from beyond the grave. Logic could go screw itself. The rules. That was something she knew, something they had spoken of many times. The rules of combat. The key to winning. If it hadn't been a message from her husband then why had she thought of something so seemingly useless. _Why_? Tears threatened to escape her cerulean eyes. She blinked hard, denying their departure. Tears, pain, sorrow; all things to be pushed to the side in times of war. She had to be strong and not give in to the sadness that wanted to consume her soul. She couldn't let it overtake her. She wouldn't. She pushed away thoughts of a man she would never again see. She pushed away thoughts of a home her son would never know. She pushed away thoughts of the perfect, carefree life that had been stolen from her. All that mattered was the here and now. So the _Prince_ wanted her to cook, did he?

She smirked, her hand darting under the opposite pillow, grabbing her wrist watch from the pile of clothes she'd stored there. _Goku_. He had given it to her just after she'd given birth to Gohan. At first she'd been puzzled but in all the commotion of her son's birth - the first Grandchild of the vast Briefs empire - she hadn't had the opportunity to ask him exactly why he'd bought it. Only when the new family returned home did it occur to her that she should find out. She'd walked outside, having just put Gohan to sleep, and asked him the question that'd be itching at the back of her mind for days. Without halting his training he'd stately simply that he'd heard her talking about a new watch for ages. Buying one for her was the least he could do. After all she'd brought more happiness and joy than he had ever thought possible. His whole life had been about fighting but finally, after years of searching, she'd given him something to come home to. Something to fight _for_. Then he grinned at her and, wiping the tears from her eyes, she'd beamed back. At the moment she'd felt more love, more incomprehensible crippling love, than she'd ever felt in her entire existence.

She pushed the memory away, staring at the watch. The LCD lights flashed 3:30pm but was that right? Was time different in space? Surely. Prince Pansy had said that the meal had to be ready by 6:00am, but when exactly was that? She jumped out of bed, throwing on her clothes and walking groggily into the kitchen. It really was quite splendid. Given the right circumstances she could have spent hours here, meticulously examining each and every item, silently marvelling at the scientific genius that went into them. But these were hardly the right circumstances. Everything here was worthless. She tuned her attention back to the problem at hand. A deceptively human-esque clock was imbedded into the wall, above a fridge-like box. She scanned it, carefully examining the hands sequence. She grinned, her first victory of the day. Apparently time here was measured exactly the same as on Earth: 24 hours a day, 12 hour time periods, 60 minutes in each hour, and 60 seconds in each minute. Right now it was 5:02, presumably am. She adjusted her watch accordingly and smirked, recalling her fiendish plot from the night before. Time to get to work.

_We'll see who the baka is now._

_Rule number two of combat: never assume _anything _of your opponent._

She laughed vacantly.

_1 hour later_

Bulma was so engrossed in her work that she barely heard the loud heavy clunking as her front door opened. From the corner of her eye she caught the silhouette of the Prince and smirked, rushing over to greet him.

Vegeta gazed at the woman with renewed interest. Though his usual stoic expression remained in place he couldn't help but be amazed by her. Her arrogant smirk, her fearless stance, her very aura screamed victory. What exactly was it she had planned?

"I must say I am astonished to find you up already woman," he said by way of greeting. "I am even move amazed to find that you are still alive. I would have thought that a creature as pathetic as yourself would have crawled into a hole and died in typical submission."

Her smirk vanished.

"You _Bastard_!" she ground out, clenching her fists so hard her nails drew blood. "How dare _you_ call _me_ pathetic. You who mercilessly kill those weaker than you and happily eradicate planets before they even have a chance to defend themselves. Makes you feel big, does it? Makes you feel strong? You _weak_, _cowardly_ son of a-"

The flow of words were constricted by a powerful and deadly hand at Bulma's throat.

"Do not ever presume to understand my actions," he said, his tone deadly and utterly emotionless. "You do not know me nor will you ever do so. Never again aim insults at me that you can not fully comprehend. Understand that the consequences of your doing so will see your life and the life of the one you love ended immediately. You are not a guest on this ship. Whatever you seem to think, you are just a possession. A new piece of property that I have acquired for the good of the Empire of Vegeta-sei. The only reason you are still alive is to help persuade that brat of yours to join our cause. Apart from that your life is meaningless. Welcome to Hell, Princess."

He let go, watching triumphantly as Bulma slumped to the ground. Good, she deserved pain. She was so smug and she had no right to be. He wanted her to hurt. Hurt so much she couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't even breath. Hurt, just like he did. He wanted her to suffer. She'd had twenty years of serenity but that was over. It was time to learn what life was all about.

She picked herself up. He inwardly faltered. Her eyes were tearless and fiery. She was not one to easily break.

"Well woman," he said, baiting her yet again. "I gave you a full briefing of your duties last night. I expect you have completed them in a futile attempt to preserve your pitiful existence… and that of your son's."

Bulma smirked, intent of winning this battle of the wills.

"Oh course, _your highness_," she sneered, her voice dripping sarcasm. His words did nothing to intimidate her. She just didn't care. She was past caring at this stage. He needed her son, his thoughtless words had proven as much. Regardless of her actions Gohan would be fine. She smirked, wanting to savour this defeat knowing that it might very well be her last.

She nodded curtly, leading him into the ornate kitchen. On the bench sat five patterned bowls. Inside each was an unknown murky brown substance smelling heavily of petrol. Any sane person could see that Bulma's idea of _food_ was, in no way, shape or form, edible. In fact Bulma estimated that one spoon would lead to intense stomach pains, two would give the consumer days of gastro and three would result in death. Scum for scum.

"What is _this_?" Vegeta asked, eyeing the _food_ with disgust. His snarled, his cold onyx eyes meeting her own. Bulma smirk wavered.

"You told me," she began evenly. "That I should not assume anything of you. Unfortunately you do not heed your own advice. You _assumed _that, no doubt due to my sex, I could cook a half-decent meal. I assure you that you were extremely off the mark in that particular premise. My prior life on Earth did not… _require _me to do anything so humble as prepare meals. In fact I'm hopeless in the field of cooking or cleaning or pretty much any kind of housework you could think to name."

"This," she added, gesturing at the bowls. "Is my cooking at it's finest."

Vegeta intense gaze seized her up. Untrustworthy though she might be, this time the woman was telling the truth. He supposed it made sense judging by the overly groomed manor he had first found her in. Couple that with her violent, rebellious temperament and her heiress position in Earth's scientific empire and he was surprised he didn't realise it sooner. She was not just any old weakling; she was an overly pampered brat. That explained everything. Yet, he was still angry. How dare she openly defy him? What, did she think he'd let it slide? Excuse or not she needed to be punished. She _still _had yet to learn her place.

Bulma's smirk returned full force. She had bettered him and they both knew it.

Vegeta could no longer stand her arrogance. He hated her. He hated everything about her. All he wanted was to grab her by the scrawny neck and strangle every last breath out of her. Screw the consequences. He couldn't stand her face anymore.

In a flash he grabbed her lithe form, slamming it against the wall. He smirked. She winced.

_Squirm bitch, squirm_

He tightened his hold, enraged by her fearlessness. He wanted so badly to break her. He couldn't stand her strength. He couldn't stand her continued defiance. She needed to fall. _He_ needed her to fall. He just had to find her trigger. Only then could he bask in the pools of her blood. Only then could he murder her. He smirked maliciously, a sadistic plan beginning to form.

"I think that you and your son's meeting shall have to be postponed. I was thinking of arranging a gathering today but maybe next month will be of better convenience."

He laughed as Bulma slid down the wall, all of her former arrogance lost in one brutal heartbeat. She would wish for death before the end. He exited the room, leaving the shattering woman to her ominous thoughts.

Bulma could feel them again. Those troublesome tears threatening to spill in a torrent of sorrow, fear and rage. She hated him so much. The arrogant Prince who felt no emotion and delighted in her pain. What had she ever done to him?

"Oh Goku," she whispered. "I wish you were here. I need you so much."

_No point wishing for the impossible_ a small voice, a strong voice, whispered within her. _Beside there are other ways to express intense emotion, other outlets. Or have you forgotten, Bulma Briefs, that you have one of the most brilliant minds in the universe? It's payback time._


End file.
